Before the Storm
by Vagrant Zero
Summary: It is said that humanity is witnessing the dawning of a new era, the ‘age of Elysium,’ an epoch of serenity, man and machine, coexisting in peace. But there is to be no peace; no serenity; no Elysium; it is merely the calm before the storm.


Before the Storm: Chapter One  
  
Ill-Fated Requiem  
  
It made him sick. The scenery, the occasion, the human children aptly berating their strident voices, all of it. Everything was intolerable. The shrewd politicians and their hopeless promises of peace, the wailing widows and mourning mothers who'd lost their husbands and sons during the subsequent Irregular revolts, all of it. Today was to be the dawning of a new era, the 'age of Elysium,' an epoch of serenity, man and machine, coexisting in peace. The idealists wasted their time he mused, baiting the inevitable. There was to be no peace; no serenity; no Elysium; it was merely the calm before the storm. Amidst all the snickering lies, stood the only truth, the only article that had stood the devastating test of time. As long as there were people to be harmed, there would be those to harm them. There would be Irregulars, and as long as there were Irregulars, there would be Irregular Hunters, much like himself.  
  
He took in the surroundings like a child would take his first inoculation from a doctor, physical pain registering on his face. He wasn't created to be someone's political stepping stone into power. The topic of reploids becoming Irregular and what could be done to stop them was a favorite of the tuxedo types. They sat there, having consumed far too much alcohol, arguing amongst themselves on the subject, deciding the fate of all reploids, deciding his future, as if they had the right to judge him, judge his kind of 'people'. It was almost enough to make him go Irregular.  
  
He wasn't known for keeping his emotion programs subtle, and it didn't take long for those around him to notice his discomfort, human and hunter alike. Of those around him was his best friend, a blue armor-skinned hunter, who was making his way through the crowd, concern stamped across his faceplate. The humans of course seeing his current disposition had scattered, though if questioned on the matter he was sure they would have feigned their fleeing and his mood as a coincidence.  
  
"Zero, is something bothering you?" inquired the blue hunter designated X, who'd managed to make his way through the herd. He belonged to the 17th hunter division, and was the prototype of a new breed of artificial intelligence, thus the designation of X was selected by his creator, the now deceased Dr. Thomas Light, a genius in robotic intelligence. All reploids were designed with his specifications as their blueprint. Unfortunately not all of X's sub-routines were understood and therefore could not be replicated properly which some elucidated as the reason reploids were prone to becoming Irregulars. Fortunately for Zero, he was not a reploid, but then again the Fates of ancient Greek Mythology were not known for their righteousness.  
  
Zero brushed X's question aside and took note of the spilled wine on X's repainted armor-skin. What a pity he reflected. X's frequently battle- scared cerulean armor-skin shimmered brilliantly, a testament to the hours he'd spent buffing over every ding, removing every smudge, and repairing any other damage sustained in the recent coup by Repliforce. Indeed, it would have been all but perfect if were it not for the blood- red stain blotched on his chest-plate. Although his hours of maintenance and repair had been ruined in a few seconds, X did not express any discourse. His often optimistic and cheery attitude found itself beleaguering Zero's desolate and depressing outlook. X decided to try Zero's patience once more, and repeated his earlier question but more forcefully this time.  
  
"I'm fine," Zero conceded. Not wishing to carry the conversation any further, he thrust a finger in the direction of the uniformed reploid whom the ceremony was dedicated too. "Besides, I'm not the one you should be concerning yourself with," he returned, hoping X would take the hint and let him be.  
  
X, though unconvinced, glanced where Zero was pointing; his visual preceptors fixating themselves upon the newcomer and their soon-to-be commanding officer. X examined the reploid, commenting on his appearance. He looked to be specifically built as a leader model, his armor-skin which was molded to fit the look of a general, cap and all, proof of that. X hadn't heard much pertaining to reploid, except that he was hand-picked by the current commandant to take his place once he had formally resigned his commission, which had been a few hours ago.  
  
Zero was also giving the new model an once-over, but unlike X his conclusion wasn't as favorable. "I haven't heard a single thing about what's his faceplate-"  
  
"Signas," X interrupted, scowling at his friend's obvious disdain for their future senior officer.  
  
"…Other then he is supposedly a superb tactician," Zero continued, ignoring X. "He has no combat experience; he's a liability; a disaster waiting to happen." His arms crossed his breastplate, finalizing his review.  
  
"You should at least give him a chance," X chimed in, as optimistic as ever. "He could be the best commandant we've had in a while." Zero muttered something in response, but it was too muted for X's auditory receptors to make out.  
  
There was once a time when Zero had occupied that position X reminisced. It had been right after Sigma, the commandant at the time and Dr. Cain's supreme creation had gone Irregular, taking most of the hunters under his command with him. This became known as the first Irregular revolt and Zero, who'd been one of the few hunters to remain unaffected by Sigma, was appointed commandant and charged with silencing the yapping of the Irregulars, and the reploids who supported them. What had resulted was the bloodiest period in human history. It had appeared at the time that the human race would become extinct, leaving a world of reploids without anyone to exist for.  
  
"I can't stand this atmosphere anymore," Zero exclaimed, slamming an armored fist into the wall. The durra-steel of the wall gave way, molding itself to the shape of his fist. The red paint of his armor-skin scraped off, smearing the dented wall. X thought the whole scene was surreal as it gave the impression that Zero was bleeding. However, X wasn't the only one to notice Zero's outburst. Zero had managed to attract the attention of the entire crowd, who looked ready to label him an Irregular. The humans found yet more reasons to distance themselves from him while the hunters apprehensively went for their weapons, glancing nervously at one another.  
  
Zero, not wishing to ignite the already volatile situation further, decided it'd be best to withdraw. "I'm heading to the roof," he versed and briskly stalked off to the turbo-lift, punching in the sequence code for the top floor hurriedly. The manner of his saunter told X that he did not wish for any company, which suited X just fine. He didn't want to miss the opening service, not on account of Zero's sulkiness anyways. Still, he didn't take his eyes off Zero until the translucent lift and its occupant had left his field of vision. Something was eating away at him, and X was all too certain what that something was…  
  
  
  
Zero slammed the stairway door behind him shut, not caring if the damned thing was torn from its hinges. He'd been in a dead sprint after he'd left the turbo-lift for reasons his CPU could not comprehend. Maybe it had been the ride up which had made him nauseous though this in itself was bizarre considering reploids didn't get nauseous, and neither were they claustrophobic for that matter. But he didn't have long to dwell on the subject, the instant he stepped onto the terrace his thoughts were drowned out be the thunderous clatter of the city below. The noise did little to hinder his hearing; his superb audio sensors were able to distinguish thousands of different voices, a child begging his mother for a toy, a policemen recounting his tall tales to his fellow servicemen over donuts and coffee, an aged old man declaring checkmate as if he truly had accomplished something of great importance. And yet there were the whispers that spoke softly, seemly of no source, but resonating nonetheless, but he never could understand what they meant.  
  
He made his way to the edge of the platform and gazed at the light-streaked backdrop, stopping just a tad bit short of the precipice. The extolled lights of the city were on par with that of humanity's finest, and not a single acre was lacking the heavenly glow. The lights did little to hinder his vision though, his anti-glare filters made it all but impossible. As such, he could see every detail of the vista below. There were billboards everywhere, advertisements and the like, and the horizon was dotted with numerous silhouettes of yet more numerous buildings. Sky-cars sped in- between the titanic behemoths, oblivious to the red hunter who envied their sense of direction, of where they were heading and for what purpose, and why they were going there at all.  
  
The scenery was breathtaking he remarked, loosening the fastening around his mane, allowing it to flow unhindered from the bondage of his hair band. His tresses fell down upon his body, a golden waterfall of circuitry and wires. Truth be told, his grand locks were not the stuff of organic hair, fur, or other such 'living' items. They were cold and heartless, just like the head that housed them. Let the wind howl and screech all it wanted, it could not sway that witch could not feel.  
  
His gaze fell upon an eerie nocturnal sky; it was so natural, much unlike the city below it. For a metropolis so studded with blazing lights, the night sky was unusually bright, the stars seemly casting their incandescent radiance, blanketing the city like a canopy of treetops blankets a forest, hiding an innumerous amount of secrets, lies, and mendacities within the cityscape, humiliating the only truth to seek shelter from the decadence of its subsistence. Even the complementary reverberations of frivolous clamor universally instituted in the presence of heavy urbanization gave the impression of being downtrodden, submissive to the whims of the heavens that hushed them so. But none of this mattered to him, none of it registered, he let that which he desired more than anything waft athwart him, his ruthless armor shielding him from more than just the assaults of Irregular weaponry.  
  
He felt free here, he no longer had to play masquerade for the humans. No longer did he force his chest to expand with his every breath, no longer did he breathe, or blink, nor did he undertake any other unnecessary 'human' actions. He did not need too. He only did such things to set the humans at ease. But this was not the true reason he had fled to the sanctuary of the roof. He'd come here to search for solitude, the peace best found alone, yet he felt an imperious presence at the rear of him, stationed abut of the stairway he'd used to ascend to the roof . He believed this without shadowy doubts while his sensors alleged nothing of the sort. Some things one does not need to see with the eye, or sensors for that matter and he just knew it was there, as it had always been. Always behind him, forever, for he dared not confront it, lest it show him the nightmares of his past, splinters upon his mind's eye long buried. He wished it would go away more then anything, he wished it would let him live in peace, but it cared little for what he wished.  
  
"You are so high, yet you can only be so low. All that is needed is to take one small step forward, and it will all end," cried the propitious presence, it was all but cackling with delight. Zero had been its victim long before he was created, his birth all but slavery to the whims of a madman. And it knew this well.  
  
Zero's body froze, his circuitry reducing the impulses of movement to near nothing. It had never spoken to him before, only in the murmurs of his stasis-dreams had he heard the ghastly tenor. Were his aural sub-systems malfunctioning he wondered, not entirely persuaded with what he thought he'd just heard.  
  
"No, you can't die just yet, you won't die, not until you have fulfilled your mission, am I not right destroyer of reploids?" The phantom continued, braving Zero to respond, to reply to his own madness, or…to take that one step forward and end it all as it promised. It liked to play this game every so often; taking pleasure in the discomfort of its prey that was always silent, never rebuking a word in response.  
  
"I have died once before," Zero countered, still frigid with disbelief. It was taunting him he motioned, like it did in his dreams. Solitude, the peace best found alone, the peace he had yet to find solace within for he had never been truly alone. The voice, the presence, it stalked him like it stalked his creator.  
  
The specter hovered wordlessly, he had spoken back to him it thought, clearly the lunacy that caused one to become Irregular had embedded itself deep, and the time would soon come for it to be uprooted, but that time was not today. "Did you?" It asked, mockery baiting its breath, a devilish grin slithering across its lipless face. "Yes, yes of course you did, only to be resurrected once more. I've already told you, you cannot die, not until…" It taunted him further, posing questions that it alone new the answers to, beaming from side to side with its lipless smile.  
  
"Shut up!" Zero screamed, his right hand retreating back into his busters alcove. He turned to face his accuser, uncontrollable rage overriding fear and caution, charging the buster, readying it to discharge a silencing blow. But it was too late; the presence had dissipated into an ethereal mist. That didn't matter to Zero; he unleashed the full fury of his z- buster anyways, the plasma charge streaked across the distance of the roof and headed straight for the staircase. During all this something quite unexpected happened. Just before the shot impacted with the concrete casing, the door to the stairway opened and out burst an undersized, stout, and shaggy haired reploid, who happened to be blissfully unaware of the peril he was in.  
  
"Get down you fool!" Zero yelled mere seconds before the impact. The corpulent auburn armor-skinned reploid gawked at the deadly blast bearing straight at him and dove for the floor as fast as gravity would allow him, abject terror engraved on his face. The shot tore into the concrete, melting it into fine putty, the shockwave sending debris and the terrified reploid hurtling through the air, the latter being unceremoniously dumped next to Zero with a loud thwump.  
  
"S-Si-Sir-, u-uh I-I mea-mean, Com-ma-a-ander Ze-ro-o" the petrified reploid managed to stutter. The remains of the door struck him promptly in the head and fell into his outstretched hand. He ogled the fragment, which was the doorknob and probably the largest piece of the door left. His gaze shifted towards the red irregular hunter, with a look that all but explicitly implied his thoughts, which were of course 'have you gone mad?!", "what the hell was that for?!!", and still more colorful phrases with equally colorful adjectives.  
  
"Sorry, thought you were someone else," Zero stated nonchalantly, as if misunderstandings that resulted with shattered staircases and careening reploids were commonplace occurrences. He hadn't asked for company to begin with, served the klutz right for barging in on him like that he warranted.  
  
The plump reploid shuddered as he stood up; apparently the thought 'thank the creator I'm not that someone else' crossing his mind. His golden-brown helmet-skull jewel had cracked from the explosion and the corollary hurtling, dumping, and thwumping. At least his two equally golden-brown chestplate jewels were still intact and any damage done was superficial anyways Zero observed.  
  
"I assume you wanted to have a word with me?" Zero questioned, coiffuring aside the 'misunderstanding'. The reploid still didn't trust himself enough to speak, so he kept silent, aggravating Zero further. "Well speak up will you, its not like you had your program flash before your eyes," he ogled menacingly.  
  
The thickset reploid decided it'd be best to answer him this time. "The name's Dynamite, Sir." He glanced sidelong at the stairway that had just detonated, shuddering once more. My commanding officer will so hear of this.  
  
"Well…?" Zero chided once again, raising an eyebrow underneath his own helmet. He didn't recognize the new arrival at all, though he did make out the Irregular Hunter insignia on the left sleeve-arm. They must be letting anyone be a hunter nowadays. What's the world coming to?  
  
"Sir, Commandant Signas's coronation is about to begin, I thought you might like to join the other hunters down below," He quickly responded, not wishing to anger Zero anymore then he was already. There was many a famous rumor about Zero and his ill-kept temper, not to mention that Z-Saber he always had strapped to his back.  
  
"You thought? And what might your rank be that you're allowed to think?" Zero bore into Dynamite like only a commander dealing with a low-level grunt could, his eyes chastising his fellow attendant. If reploids could sweat, Dynamite would be a regular Niagara Falls. Not that anyone could blame him, what with all those rumors and all it was amazing he'd stayed this long without fabricating a pathetic excuse to run off. He'd come here for a reason, he had a task, and he'd be damned if some arrogant golden haired saber wielding punk would cause him to do otherwise.  
  
"I was asked to come fetch you by Commander X, Sir," Dynamite defended, careful not to let what he was really thinking be blurted out. It wasn't the golden hair that bothered him, but the saber wielding was an altogether different matter.  
  
That seemed to satisfy Zero, who refrained from skewering Dynamite further. With his interrogation complete, he thought it would only be proper to be at his future Commander's coronation. "Alright then, let's get going," he ordered, turning to leave.  
  
"Sir, there's a small problem with that," Dynamite said. After receiving a cold stare from Zero he began to fidget, finding small oil stains on his hands to keep him occupied.  
  
"What is it now?!" Zero shouted, already irritated enough as it was.  
  
"You destroyed our only way down," Dynamite informed the red in armor and now in the face hunter.  
  
"Oh," Zero croaked sheepishly, his face becoming a great deal redder. The color of his face now matched his armor…  
  
  
  
X didn't take his eyes off the turbo-lift though his ears were distinctly trained on Signas, who was giving the usual commandant coronation speech about the future of mankind and reploids. Come on Zero, your going to miss the best part. Confound it all; what if they ask you to make a speech? What am I going to say? He went out for some fresh air? You don't even breathe!  
  
Signas's speech was a lengthy one, spanning the length of known reploid history, beginning with the early days, when X was first 'cloned' and the creation of the original reploids, though there was no mention of the first Irregular revolt. Not that that surprised X, it was just one of those topics that you didn't bring up. Next came the events of Doppler-town, named after a reploid scientist who'd supposedly found a way of negating the affects of becoming an Irregular. But it had been a fraud, a placebo effect; there was nothing yet known of that could combat the Irregular Virus. Maybe because so little was known about the Virus itself, in fact it hadn't been discovered that the mechanism causing reploids to become Irregular was a virus until a short time ago. It was of appalling providence to be conscious when the Virus began to infect and rewrite all major sub-systems, a fate worse then the equivalent of death for a reploid. No one knew from where the virus had come from or who had created it, but preliminary scans had shown that it was much older then the very first reploids, as old as X and Zero themselves. It was a mystery that still baffled the most gifted of analysts.  
  
The speech was nearing its conclusion and Signas looked as if he could cry, with joy that is. He didn't particular enjoy these types of events nor the silver spooned ones that often supplemented them. He stopped to gain his composure and to make sure that the audience hadn't fallen asleep. Pleased with his oratory skills and his ability to keep his listeners awake, Signas continued with the insurrection of Repliforce, the name given to the support group that was charged with supporting the Irregular Hunters, similar to a private army. When Skylab and crashed into the city below it obliterating anything living and non-living alike, Repliforce had been labeled as Irregulars and held accountable for the travesty. It wasn't until much later that the truth had finally been exposed, that Sigma was behind the coup all along and that the reploids of Repliforce had willingly chosen to break away from the humans and form their own space colony, a sort of utopia for reploids only. They had not been Irregulars at all but that information had come too late, X and Zero had already devastated the ranks of Repliforce. Too many innocents died in that worthless war. The commandant at the time was so grief stricken that he resigned his commission, and asked Signas to assume command of the Irregular Hunters. The entire ordeal had happened only a few weeks ago, and was still fresh in the minds of humans, who now skeptically judged all reploids as Irregulars.  
  
The crowd that had gathered erupted with cheers, indicating that Signas's long-winded speech had concluded. X had been so caught up with reminiscing that he'd missed the later part of the speech altogether. Becoming aware of his surroundings once again, X saw that Signas was introducing him to the crowd, and asking him to say a few words. X being one of the more prestigious and notable members of the Hunters could do little to refuse.  
  
"Well X, would you like to say a few words?" Signas asked him again, beckoning X to relieve him from the stage and take the microphone. It appeared Signas enjoyed these gatherings just as much as Zero did.  
  
"Um…I guess," X answered completely unsure of himself as he zigged and zagged through the crowd and up onto the speaker's platform. He hadn't prepared a speech nor had he anticipated giving one; he had no idea what to say. I'm going to make an idiot out of myself; Zero is really going to be sorry he missed this. X gazed out among the sea of heads hesitantly, and fought the lump that was slowly rising into his throat. The throng that had gathered was massive, endorsing the event's importance and doubling the pressure X was feeling.  
  
Signas leaned into his ear and whispered, "Thanks X, I know you weren't expecting this, but I just got a call from our new spotter. He says he's stuck on the roof though he didn't give me any specifics. I'll tell you all about him once we get this all over with."  
  
How the hell can you get stuck on the roof X thought, but he didn't dare say that in front of Signas. Instead he polity asked, "Can't you just send someone else to go fetch him?"  
  
A thin smile spread across Signas's face, "Of course I can, but I think it'd be best if I see to this personally." He handed X the microphone, shook his hand, and left the stage for the turbo-lift, all too happy with seeing to the errand in person. X just rolled his eyes at the receding Commandant. When I was Commandant I didn't get any perks like that. I bet he even has his own tele-vid.  
  
Now he had an entire crowd of people to deal with. This wasn't in the job description he moaned. All eyes and ears were trained on him, awaiting his speech. X wished he was anywhere but here, or that something somehow interrupted before it turned ugly. Irregulars choose the worst times to attack, never when I can use one…  
  
  
  
Dynamite was closely watching Zero for two distinct reasons, the first being that Zero was legendary in the ranks of the Hunters. Zero had more Irregular deactivations to his name then did the entire Special Unit 00 division which was amongst the elite of the elite of the Hunter divisions. It was also the basis behind Zero being given command of Special Unit 00. The other reason he kept a close watch was he wanted to be on guard just in case Zero 'thought he was someone else' again. Zero still hadn't bothered to give a decent explanation and 'I thought you were someone else' didn't cover wasting half the rooftop and Dynamite along with it.  
  
Zero was oblivious to Dynamite's gawking as he stared out in the starry expanse. Hit concentration was absorbed by two stars in particular which seamed to be streaking across the vastness of the horizon. Strange, there were no reports of meteor showers he thought. But the two shooting stars seemed to care little for meteorological forecasts, and blazed across the city line unhindered.  
  
"It's beautiful isn't it Sir?" commented Dynamite who was also closely following the trajectory of the shooting stars. They were shimmering with a strange glow; it reminded him of the plasma blast he had just barely avoided moments before. "It looks a lot like those plasma shots of yours Commander."  
  
"That it does, that it does. A bit too much…," Zero eyes widened when he switched to passive sensors which told him unlike a shooting star there was nothing metallic in the core of the two stars shooting in at them.  
  
"Sir, I don't think those are shooting stars," Dynamite remarked, but it was too late, the two 'stars' increased their speed exponentially and disappeared below the cityscape. "What happened?" Dynamite asked, looking to Zero for answers who had none.  
  
Before either of them could utter anything further, the building lurched sickeningly. The force of the blast knocked Zero off his feet and over the edge of the roof. Dynamite made a desperate grab for Zero's hand, but it was of no use. Zero was falling…  
  
  
  
The crowd was becoming restless, X still hadn't started his speech, he couldn't think of anything to say. A man in the audience cleared his throat rather loudly and X could hear whispering in the back. His grip on the microphone was unrelenting. He held onto it like a mother held her child. Regrettably for X, the mike had little to offer in ways of words.  
  
He'd been designed too much like a human he thought; his anxiety was causing paralysis in his systems. Now would be a great time for an interruption. He squeezed the mike even harder and it shattered under his iron grip. Yet more coughs escaped the audience along with a few laughs and snickers. X was now practically begging to be relieved of this horrible situation.  
  
He noticed a faint glow outside the building, and it seemed to be getting brighter and nearer every second. Soon it had caught the attention of the crowd as well. The blast devastated everything in site. The entire wing of the building was reduced to rubble in an instant. X heard humans screaming, glass shattering, and his auto repairs systems kicking in to repair any damage he'd sustained. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain across the back of his helmet, and then the world blackened. Just before the darkness claimed him he thought; at least I won't have to present no bloody speech. 


End file.
